Five Days
by JodithGrace
Summary: When Jim met Pam. A prequel to Jam Sessions. How it all began.
1. Monday

Five Days

By Jody E.

These characters do not belong to me...I merely toy with them for my own amusement.

Monday

Jim flipped a new page on his desk calendar. Ah…January 8th. A date that would live in infamy. Today it was exactly two years that he had been working at Dunder Mifflin. As if January wasn't depressing enough. And it was only 9:05, so he had the whole day to get though yet.

Mondays were always terrible days for sales calls. Nobody was ever in. Even the receptionists he spoke to, tended to be surly on Mondays. As though they weren't being paid enough to be polite to some guy who interrupted their crossword puzzles or computer solitaire. And Mondays in January were even worse. It was what he thought of as the winter doldrums. The holidays were over. The weather was crummy…all dirty snow and slush. And he had been working here for two years.

The phone at the reception desk rang. And rang again, and again. The latest in a long line of temps, Tiffany, must have set the machine incorrectly, because it didn't pick up until after four loud, annoying rings. She hadn't lasted long, because she couldn't quite get the hang of the phone system. Luckily, Michael hadn't had to actually fire her. He just called the temp agency, as usual, and they did the dirty work for him.

Jim got up and went behind the reception desk, where he reset the voice mail to pick up on the first ring.

Before the temps, there had been a regular receptionist, Pregnant Peggy. Jim always thought of her that way, because being pregnant was her major defining feature. She had only one topic of conversation. If you said it was warm outside, she told you how the heat bothered her, since she was pregnant. If you commented on the latest movie, she said that movie theater seats were so uncomfortable...now that she was pregnant. In addition, she had never made the connection that if she could hear all of Jim's phone conversations, since his desk was about five feet away from hers, that he could hear hers. And so she discussed her pregnancy with her mother and several friends, in great gynecological detail. The result of which was that Jim decided that if his sales job didn't work out...he could always get work as an obstetrician.

Finally, last month, after what seemed like years of pregnancy, Peggy had gone into labor and was now on maternity leave. He didn't think she would be coming back, since she planned to be a stay at home mom at least for a few years. So, he imagined the parade of Tiffanies and Ambers would continue until they found somebody who could deal with a four-line phone system.

At the adjoining desk, Jim's other annoyance, Dwight Schrute, sat, immersed in some computer game. Even though Jim couldn't see his monitor and Dwight had the sound turned off, Jim knew what he was doing, because every so often Dwight would mutter things like, "Aha!" and "Take that, Zord!" Dwight was a good salesman, but even he knew enough not to try to make sales calls on a Monday morning in January.

Jim took out the want ads that he had rescued from Sunday's paper. It was time he moved out of his parents' house and found a place of his own. Now that he had been working for two years, he had paid off most of his student loans and had saved enough money for the first and last month's rent that most places demanded. His girlfriend, Donna, had been strongly hinting that they find a place together, but Jim wasn't quite ready for that kind of commitment. He hadn't even really lived on his own yet.

Jim had met Donna about ten months ago, working in the jewelry department of Lord and Taylor, where he had gone to buy a present for his mother's fiftieth birthday. She had helped him pick out a pair of earrings, and he had asked her out right there and then. She was a pretty girl with sharp features and smooth blond hair, what Jim liked to think of as his type. She dressed very well and was always perfectly made up. Next to her, Jim always felt kind of rumpled, with his unruly hair and rolled up shirtsleeves. But he admired the perfection of her, and she didn't seem to mind that he didn't match.

They got along well, and had a pretty good time together, but Jim didn't consider himself "in love" with her, whatever that meant. And for that reason he was hesitant about making any further commitment. Maybe he'd seen The Godfather too many times, and was waiting for "the thunderbolt." Or maybe a pretty face and fashionable clothes weren't quite enough to base a future on. But Jim enjoyed the convenience and perks of having a steady girlfriend, and so ten months had passed without much change in the status quo.

At 9:20, Dwight got up and headed for the bathroom. Dwight had many annoying qualities. In fact, his entire personality irritated Jim no end. But one of his better quirks was that he apparently had a bladder the size of a pea. At least 6 times a day, Dwight would get up and disappear into the men's room, leaving Jim access to his desk, and all of Dwight's treasured belongings. Today, Jim was mainly interested in Dwight's phone. As soon as he was out of sight, Jim quickly grabbed the headset and unscrewed it. Inside it were several nickels. Jim quickly added another one, and screwed the head back on. He was busy circling likely apartments for rent when Dwight returned. As always on his return, Dwight examined his workspace suspiciously, looking for something amiss. When all seemed normal, he sat down and resumed his game.

Jim's war of attrition with Dwight had started a year ago, not coincidentally, on his first anniversary at Dunder Mifflin. Dwight had come into work that day with a new pencil holder from Staples, a tall cup of pierced metal. He had then spent the next hour arranging and rearranging an assortment of pencils, pens and markers in this cup as though he were arranging flowers in a vase. He had sharpened each pencil precisely, and had gotten one each of every color pen from the storage closet. By the end of the hour Jim had a raging headache and during his break, he ran to the drug store for some Advil. There, right at the checkout counter, he saw a box of crayons, the big thick kind for small children. On impulse he bought them, and later when Dwight had gone to the bathroom, he quickly grabbed all of the pencils and pens out of the holder and filled it with crayons.

It wasn't much of a joke, and if Dwight had laughed, or shrugged it off, that probably would have been the end of it. But instead, Dwight had responded in spectacular manner, acting as though he had been personally violated. He questioned everybody in the room, and Jim saw him sealing the offending Crayolas in a zip lock plastic baggie from the breakroom, undoubtedly to bring them home and dust them for fingerprints. Dwight had saved Jim for last, though he had no particular reason to suspect him. Jim looked Dwight right in the eye and denied everything with an innocent face, all the while doodling on a pad with one of Dwight's freshly sharpened number 2 pencils. When Dwight had gone off in a huff to complain to Michael, Jim had laughed silently to himself. It was the first truly satisfying moment he had had in that entire year.

At 9:20 Michael came in, and sighing loudly at the empty reception desk, he went behind it to attempt to retrieve his messages. Jim hid a smile, while watching Michael out of the corner of his eye pushing buttons seemingly at random. In this manner, he managed to erase all of the messages on his voice mail without actually hearing them. He looked around frantically to see if this had been observed. When he caught Jim's eye, he tried to act nonchalant. "If it's really important, they'll call back, "he announced, "it teaches them persistence. Oh, by the way, I have an interview at ten. For a new receptionist, Thank God. When she gets here, send her in." And Michael disappeared into his office, where he did heaven knows what all day.

Jim went back to his want ads. Oh, this was interesting. Somebody was looking to share a two-bedroom house. All of the apartments he had seen lately had been sterile boxes. This sounded intriguing. And the rent wasn't bad either. He called the number and asked for Mark. After some discussion he arranged to stop over there after work today to check the place, and Mark, out, and be checked out himself in return.

The door opened and a girl walked in, looking around nervously. This must be Michael's interview, Jim thought. The first thing that Jim noticed about her was that she had a lot of rather frizzy hair, which she had tried to tame by pulling part of it back into a barrette. He couldn't really see her face, since she was looking down, seemingly studying her feet, and he couldn't tell much about her figure since she was wearing a very unflattering boxy jacket and matching skirt…obviously a "dress for success" business suit, with a horrible big floppy bow at the neck. Well, at least she wasn't a Tiffany, Jim thought, but God...Michael was going to eat her alive!

"Hey," he said with a big smile, hoping to put her at ease before she had to deal with Michael.

"Hi, " she mumbled, looking up slightly, "Are you Mr. Scott?"

She had nice eyes, but in a very glum face. In fact, Jim couldn't recall ever seeing such lack of enthusiasm in a job candidate before, well except maybe himself two years ago. He had managed to hide his reluctance successfully enough to have been hired. He didn't think that this girl was going to make it. Michael liked his receptionists perky and this girl was the opposite of that.

"No. He's in his office, but you're early. Let me buy you a cup of coffee. It's right in here." He led her to the break room. "There's coffee made right here. Or would you prefer tea? My name is Jim, by the way."

"Tea would be great, thanks. My name is Pam. I'm kind of nervous. I've never worked in a company like this before."

Jim poured hot water from the dispenser over a tea bag in a Styrofoam cup and handed it to Pam. "There's milk in the refrigerator. And sugar etc. on the counter. So where did you work before?"

She sighed, "In an art gallery. But the pay was awful."

"Well, the pay here is only semi-awful, so I guess it's a step up."

She didn't exactly smile, but her face looked a bit less glum. "What is Mr. Scott like?"

Jim smiled, "Do you really want this job?"

She sighed again, "Yes."

"Could you say it with a little less enthusiasm? Because you're really bowling me over here!"

She gave a little half smile, "Let's put it this way. I really _need_ this job."

"Okay then. One thing you've got to know. Michael considers himself a comedian. Laugh at his jokes, no matter how lame, and I assure you, they _will_ be lame, and you're hired. Can you do that?"

"Laugh?"

"You know, smile, giggle, chortle, make snorting noises…anything?"

"I can laugh. I actually laugh a lot, " she said, defensively, "when something's funny."

At that moment Dwight burst into the break room, "What are you doing? Who is this?" he asked Jim accusingly.

"Relax, Dwight. This is Pam. She has an interview with Michael in ten minutes for the receptionist job. Didn't you see her come in?"

"No...I was at a very crucial part in my g…sales report. I am very focused, " he said to Pam, studying her appraisingly. "Anyway...do not listen to anything he tells you. He is a pathological liar. Do you like…beets?"

"Beets? Like the vegetable?"

"I own a beet farm. Sixty acres. Arable land. With a nine bedroom farmhouse. Think about it." He disappeared into the men's room.

Pam looked at Jim and he looked back at her. "He obviously thinks you are good breeding stock. Think about it." He said in perfect imitation.

Pam suddenly burst into giggles. And her whole face transformed. Wow. Now this was a pretty girl. But that outfit was still a deal killer. Jim looked at the clock. No time for a makeover.

"Excuse me, but can you take that jacket off? It's kind of, uh, big. And we don't dress all that formally here."

Pam took off the suit jacket, revealing a very nice figure in a white silky blouse. It still had that bow at the neck, but this was a hundred percent better. Jim knew what Michael liked, and this girl would definitely do.

"I think you had better get in there. Good luck." He escorted her to Michael's office and sat back down at his desk. He kind of hoped that she would get the job. He couldn't tolerate one more Tiffany.

Twenty minutes later Michael emerged from his office with Pam, "Ladieees and Gentlemen, " He announced loudly in his best ringmaster's voice, "And children of all ages…I would like to present our new Receptionist, Miz Pam Beesly. Pamela."

"Pam, "she corrected.

"Isn't she cute?"

Dwight looked at Pam's white blouse with a proprietary gleam in his eyes, undoubtedly thinking of thirsty Schrute babies.

Michael continued, " But hands off, all you guys. Our little Pammy here is engaged. To be married. And to our very own Roy Anderson down in the warehouse. When's the big day, Pam?"

Pam looked startled by Michael's announcement but replied gamely, "Some time this summer. We haven't set a date yet."

Jim was also startled. He hadn't seen any rings on her fingers, and had just assumed that she was single. Not that it mattered, but he found that he was curiously disappointed. Well, at least Dwight was thwarted. The look on his face was almost worth it. And besides, it wasn't like he didn't have a girlfriend, himself. Weird, he thought to himself. For a moment there he had almost forgotten about Donna.

"Anyhoo...let's all be sure to give Pamela here a big Dunder Mifflin welcome. Show her that we are one big happy family. A happy family that happens to sell paper. You did say you could start immediately, right?"

Pam nodded, and shot a frightened little glance at Jim. He gave her an ok sign with his hand, as a show of support and she followed Michael behind the reception desk.

"Okay Pam. Here is your phone, and it's a piece of cake. I'm kind of busy right now…Mondays are my busiest day, or I'd teach you how it works, but here is the manual. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Just write all of my messages on this pad here when I'm out and screen any calls from Corporate. Jan has been on my case for the last week. You know how to use a computer, right? Oh right. You used one at the gallery, you said. Okay. My calendar is on Outbound, or Outlook…something like that. You'll find it. Good luck. Lunch is at noon." And Michael disappeared back into his office.

Pam sat down at the desk and looked around, at a loss. Suddenly, the phone rang, and she jumped. She picked it up, "Hello. I mean, Dunder Mifflin. Uh...good morning."

"And who is this, please?"

"Oh. Wait. Um. Let me transfer you. " She found the hold button and pushed it with relief.

Jim had been watching this exchange with amusement. He got up and went behind the reception desk. Pam looked up at him, "Mr. Scott didn't teach me how to use this phone. We only had one line at the gallery, and nobody ever called there, anyway."

"He doesn't know how. Let me show you. Who is it? "

"Jan?"

"Well, he's going to have to talk to her eventually. Push this button to transfer the call to Michael, and tell him it's Jan. He's not going to be happy, but that's tough. He's a big boy. He can handle it."

Pam transferred the call to Michael, despite his several muttered excuses.

For the next few minutes Jim showed Pam how to use the phone, and how to find Michael's schedule on the computer. Unlike the Tiffanies and Ambers he had similarly trained, she picked it up quickly and by noon she had it down.

At lunchtime, Jim invited Pam to join Kevin and himself in the breakroom. She said that Roy had promised to come up and eat with her on her first day, but when he hadn't shown up by quarter after, she came in and sat with them, and ate her yogurt. Jim explained that people did various things at lunchtime. Dwight always left on mysterious Dwight errands during lunch. Michael liked the McDonald's drive through, while the "lifers" ate sandwiches at their desks or in the breakroom. Jim explained that the "lifers," Phyllis, Meredith, Stanley and Sidney, were people who had been with the company, probably since the days when Dunder Mifflin was still selling papyrus, and would be with the company until they died or retired, whichever came first. Toby, the quiet Human Resources guy, who had taken Pam's paperwork, also left during lunch on mysterious errands. It was said that he was having marital difficulties. And then there were Tom and Catherine. Tom was the new guy in the accounting department, while Catherine was a voluptuous redhead in Customer service. For some reason they always seemed to disappear together somewhere at lunch time. Nobody knew what that was all about, though Kevin had a few suspicions. Jim shrugged his shoulders at Pam, and made a face suggesting that he couldn't imagine what Kevin was talking about, and she smiled.

In the afternoon, Pam asked Jim a couple more questions about the fax machine and the copier, but by the end of the day, she was pretty much up to speed. He told her that if she moved her computer monitor to the other side of the desk so that it faced away from the door, she could play solitaire or catch up on her e-mail and nobody would be the wiser. She said that she would never do that. Jim smiled.

At 5:00, Roy from the warehouse came up to claim his fiancée. Jim had seen him around before. He was a big, good looking guy, with high school football star written all over him. Oddly, Pam didn't seem like the cheerleader type. When Pam asked Roy where he had been at lunchtime, he apologized and said that he had been playing foosball with Darryl and had lost track of the time. Still, Jim noticed that Pam brightened up a lot when Roy came in, and that pretty much told him the whole story. As Pam and Roy headed for the door, though, Pam turned around and gave Jim a friendly little wave and mouthed "Thank you." Jim smiled. Maybe his third year at Dunder Mifflin might actually be bearable.


	2. Tuesday

Tuesday

"Excuse me…could I ask you a question?"

Jim had just finished filling out the paperwork on his latest sale when he heard the voice from the reception desk. He looked up. Pam looked a lot more cheerful today than she had yesterday. She also looked a lot more casual and comfortable in a striped shirt and denim skirt. It wasn't a glamorous look, by any means but it suited her much better than the fussy blouse and jacket she had worn yesterday.

"Trouble with the phones?"

She shook her head and gestured for him to come over there. He got up and went over to the reception desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Okay…this is going to sound weird, but I couldn't help but notice. Every time that Dwight gets up and goes to the bathroom, which he does a _lot_, I've noticed, you do something to his phone. But I can't quite see what."

"Oh...that. Well, as you know, I'm something of a phone expert, and Dwight's phone needs periodic adjustments…and you're not buying any of this are you?"

Pam shook her head, trying not to smile.

"Okay. Well, it's a kind of weird thing I read somewhere...I have no idea if it will work." And he outlined his plan.

Pam looked doubtful, "That will never work."

Jim shrugged, "Probably not…but, " his eyes lit up with glee, "wouldn't it be funny if it did?"

Pam's eyes lit up also, but she tried to be stern, "But what has Dwight done to you? I've noticed that it's like an armed camp over there between you two. If looks could kill, both of you would have been dead by now."

Boy, she really was sharp. Pregnant Peggy had been totally oblivious to anything not happening beneath her navel, and the temps couldn't have cared less.

"Well, except for the fact that he tries to steal my sales whenever he can, and drives me generally batty with his habits and personality…not a thing."

"Is that worth torturing the guy for?"

"Probably not, "Jim admitted, "but that's not why I do it."

"Why then?'

" I do it because he reacts so beautifully."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it...you have to see it. But I swear it's like creating art."

"Oh come on."

"Nope I swear. Listen, Pam. I'll make a deal with you. Let me do this nickel thing…you don't have to do anything, just don't tell Dwight. Anyway, you'll be my witness when it goes down, and if his reaction isn't the funniest thing you've ever seen, or if it makes you uncomfortable or _anything_, well, then I'll call it quits and I won't play any more practical jokes. Okay? Fair enough?"

"You'd do that?"

"Sure. We have to work together. I sit right here, practically under your nose. I don't want you to think that I'm some mean guy who goes around torturing innocent beet farmers or anything. "

The phone rang. Pam smiled, "It's a deal. Dunder Mifflin, good morning."

Jim went back to his seat. Dwight leaned over and hissed, "What were you doing talking to her? She's engaged."

"She's still allowed to talk to people, Dwight."

"Well, I, personally, am not going to waste my time."

"Well, I'm sure that she, personally, will be glad to hear that."

"What were you two talking about all that time?"

"We were plotting against you."

"Liar."

At lunchtime, Jim asked Pam if Roy was going to come up. "No. Darryl, the foreman, brought in one of those foosball tables, and they have tournaments down there during lunch every day. I don't mind, really."

Today Kevin was eating lunch with Devon and Creed, the quality control guys, over in their back corner. So it was just Jim and Pam at the table in the breakroom.

Jim looked at Pam's ringless hands while she ate her yogurt, "So…you're engaged, huh?"

"Yep. Since Christmas. I was kind of surprised at Mr. Scott announcing it like that though. "

"Oh, Michael has no sense of personal…I don't know, boundaries? He's not a bad guy though. Anyway, I have to tell you. You have broken Dwight's heart. And he had such big plans too."

Pam laughed, "I think he's been avoiding me."

"Well, you are off limits, now. Dwight is all about the rules."

"Ah. I see. Well, it's a good thing…uh, everybody isn't like that."

"Yeah. So, if you don't mind me asking...how come no ring?"

"Oh. No, that's okay. We're picking it up today, as a matter of fact. Roy's credit was a little maxed out. But, uh...we're working on that."

"Oh. Good." Jim ate his sandwich in silence for a few minutes, wondering what it was that a really nice girl like Pam saw in an obvious lunkhead like Roy. Jim wondered what Roy had maxed out his credit on. But it was none of his business. This girl was none of his business. They were just co-workers sitting in very close proximity, which reminded him, "Oh…listen. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Our office really stinks as far as privacy goes. You and I sit really close, which means that you get to hear all of my scintillating sales calls, but I also get to hear pretty much everything that you say, also. Like that phone call to your mom, this morning."

"Oh? What did I say? Anything really embarrassing? I don't remember."

"Oh no, nothing, but I just wanted to warn you that even though I'm not trying to be an eavesdropper…I kind of am." He didn't tell her that he had heard her say some rather nice things about himself and how helpful he had been, yesterday. Or that it had brightened the very bad mood he had been in this morning.

"Well, I'll try to be more discreet."

"I would just be more careful about the prank calls to Moe's tavern."

Pam snorted, "But he always falls for them."

They talked a bit about the Simpsons and other television shows they liked.

"Roy likes to watch a lot of sports. He even has a big screen TV. Roy hopes that we'll have our new apartment in time for the Superbowl. He always invites a crowd, and the place he's living in now...well, it's pretty small."

"Hey...I just found a house. Over on Silverlake Drive. I signed the agreement last night. I'm moving in over the weekend. I can't wait to be on my own."

"A whole house?"

"Well, I'll be sharing it with this dude named Mark. Seems like an okay guy, though. We went out last night for a couple of beers. I mean, if I hate it, I can get out of it easily enough. I made sure of that." He didn't mention the huge fight he had had with Donna when he told her he had signed a lease, which had resulted in him spending last night very much alone.

"Well, congratulations, then. Where are you living now?"

"With my folks…I guess that makes me a real dork, huh?"

"Please. I'd be living at home if my parents weren't all the way in South Williamsport."

"Heck of a commute."

"Yeah."

"Hey, it's time to get back. Listen, I'm going to buy myself a bag of M&Ms for the afternoon. Would you like something? My treat."

"Maybe a Hershey bar? Or anything chocolate. Thanks."

Jim dropped coins into the slot. "Well, chocolate is okay, but what I really love is jelly beans. But the machine doesn't carry them. The real M&M freak is Kevin. He keeps a huge jar of them on his desk. Sometimes in the late afternoon, when I'm falling asleep, I go over there and grab some. He doesn't mind. Here you go." He handed Pam the chocolate bar. "Back to the salt mines."

"Thanks."

Back at his desk, Jim turned to look at Pam a few times that afternoon. He wondered why she had seemed so unhappy about this job yesterday, so much so that she almost lost it for herself. Today, she seemed perfectly cheerful, though she still seemed a little nervous around Michael. Well, that was no mystery…Michael took a bit of getting used to. She was different. Different from the kind of girls he usually found attractive. She wore very little makeup, and her hair was, frankly, a bit of a mess, even with the restraining barrette. Her outfit today looked like it came from a Land's End catalog. Jim's sister, Janice, dressed exclusively from Land's End, which is why he recognized it. But she was a stay at home mom with a one year old, not an office worker. Still, the all over effect was…nice. That's it…she was what his mother would call "a nice girl." And they really hit it off, too. Shame she was engaged. Not only engaged, but looking for an apartment together.

Damn! He really should call Donna, and see if they could come to a meeting of the minds about his whole house situation. But he was strangely reluctant to pick up the phone…to have Pam overhear…he'd stop at her place after work today…unless she was closing tonight. He always forgot her schedule.

Dwight got up and went to the men's room, and Jim carefully inserted another nickel into his headpiece. It was getting full…only a few more would fit. He turned to see if Pam was watching and sure enough, she was. He smiled at her, and she shook her head, but she was smiling too.


	3. Wednesday

Wednesday

Jim pulled into the Dunder Mifflin parking lot, his mood matching the dark forbidding weather. Snow was due tonight, according to the weather forecast and the sky was gray, and a chill wind had cut right through Jim's heaviest winter coat on his way to the car. He and Donna had just spent another fruitless evening arguing over their future, or lack of it. Jim had been telling her for weeks that he wasn't ready to move in with her, that he wanted a chance to live on his own for a while, but yet, the house had still been a shock for her.

Jim really didn't want to be one of "those guys," those commitment phobic assholes he saw in the movies and on TV...he knew a few in real life too. He did want to settle down and have a family, someday. With the right girl. His parents had been married for thirty years, and his sister and her husband seemed to be doing okay as well. So he wasn't queasy about the concept of marriage. But at heart he was pretty much a romantic, waiting for that one moment…that one look across a crowded room. And he didn't want to give up on that to settle down with a girl he really didn't love. He'd been honest about that too.

But Donna hadn't earned that diamond star on her Lord and Taylor nametag by being wishy-washy. She was as aggressive a salesman as he was, in fact more so, since she actually had motivation. Jim felt like she was wearing him down, that sooner or later he would give in and give her what she wanted. And really, why not? Living with Donna wouldn't exactly be a fate worse than death…he didn't really know why he was fighting it so hard.

Bracing himself against the cold, he headed for the entrance. He recognized Roy's truck in the parking lot, so Pam was probably there already. Maybe he would ask her what she thought. Even though he'd only known her for two days, she probably wouldn't mind. He pushed open the door.

Pam was at the reception desk, her eyes bright, and her cheeks rosy from the cold. She had obviously gotten in mere moments before him. She was wearing a pink sweater over a pink and white striped shirt and her hair was curling about her face, having been tossed by the wind. She was rubbing her hands together. Jim smiled at the very pretty picture she made and turned to hang up his coat.

"Good morning, Jim."

"Good morning…"for some reason the name Pam suddenly seemed too intimate, "Beesly."

He went and sat down at his desk, and turned on his computer. Waiting for it to boot up, he happened to glance over at Pam and saw her place a clear plastic box on the reception desk, and remove the lid. Curious, he got up to investigate.

"What's this, Beesly?" It was a plastic candy box filled with what looked like gourmet jellybeans.

Pam said, "You said that Kevin had a big jar of M&Ms on his desk, and it occurred to me, that it would be nice to have some candy here, for, you know, people, when they come in. Sort of a welcoming thing. Help yourself." She held up a large bag of Jelly Bellies. "There are plenty more where that came from."

"Wow. That's really…nice. Jelly beans are my favorite candy." He took a few and popped them in his mouth.

"Oh that's right. I forgot you mentioned that. Well, you're lucky, that's what was on sale."

"I am lucky."

Pam put up her hands to fix her barrette and Jim saw it, glinting on her left hand. The engagement ring. He nodded at it, and put out his hand. Pam put her hand in his so that he could see her ring. He smiled, "Very pretty." He was strongly tempted to add, "and so's the ring," but decided against it. That would be flirtatious and he wouldn't go there. Instead he said, "Congratulations. Have you set the date yet?"

"Not yet. We've been too busy apartment hunting. Probably this summer, though."

"Well, summer is a good time for weddings. Fall is pretty too." Or maybe next winter. Or the following summer, or how does 2006 strike you? There's no rush, Pam, he thought, no rush at all. "All that foliage."

Jim went back to his desk and sat there staring off into space. Pam's theoretical engagement had become very, very real, all of a sudden. And why did he care? He suddenly remembered that he was in a bad mood, and stared grumpily at his computer screen.

When lunchtime came, Jim thought that maybe today he would eat at his desk, even though he usually couldn't wait to leave it. But, if he thought that he would escape Pam that way, though, he was mistaken. After a few minutes alone in the breakroom, she came back in and ate at _her_ desk. He guessed that she didn't want to be alone with Kevin.

This was silly. Jim got up and gathered his lunch things, and pointed to the breakroom. Pam picked up her sandwich and followed him. Once in the breakroom, he saw that Kevin wasn't here after all. They had the place to themselves. They sat there for a few minutes, eating silently, while Jim cast around for something to talk about that wasn't her damned engagement.

"So…you used to work in an art gallery? Which one?"

Pam smiled in relief, "Farber Brothers on Main."

"Oh, "said Jim, "I've passed that place. Doesn't it have a lot of really unusual pottery in the window?"

"That's the one. Lee Farber collects pottery. He's a real expert."

"I always thought that when I got a place of my own I would buy some. Sort of give the place an exotic air."

Pam made a face, "I don't think so. A lot of it is pre-Columbian and _very_ expensive. Way out of _our_ league. I mean, it's not like anybody else in Scranton can afford to buy it either. It's pretty much Lee's personal collection. He locks it up at night like it's the Mona Lisa."

"Oh. Well, I guess I don't know much about Art. Or at least pottery. I just thought it was cool."

"It is. Anyway, it was a great place to work. I loved it there. And Lee's brother Henry is a painter, and he helped me a lot with my work. Someday I was hoping to be good enough to actually show in the gallery."

"Wow. You're an artist? What do you paint?"

"Not really an artist. I just dabble, mostly. Watercolors and oil pencils. But Henry said that I had potential. He gave me lessons when business was slow, which was a lot of the time."

"It sounds great. So why did you leave?"

"Because business was slow a lot of the time. Believe it or not, Scranton isn't exactly the cultural center of the north east."

"I thought it was."

"Nope. Anyway, they couldn't afford to keep me on. Henry offered to recommend me to another gallery. He has all sorts of contacts, but…" Pam kind of drifted off there, as though unwilling to finish the thought.

"But what, Pam?"

"But Roy…and I…thought it would be better for me to get a real job for the time being."

"The gallery wasn't a real job?"

"Well, it didn't pay very well, and there were no benefits. And I worked kind of odd hours. And Roy worked here, of course, and when he heard there was an opening for receptionist, he spoke to Michael on my behalf and got me my interview."

Okay, this explained the sad sack who had interviewed here on Monday.

"It's not forever," Pam continued, " But this way we can afford a nice apartment and save some money for when we get married. And it's very convenient. We can ride in together.."

"And eat lunch together…" Oh shit...why had he said that?

Pam stood up suddenly and gathered her things together. "I'm going back now. See you later."

"Pam...I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"That's right, " she said coolly and left the room.

Jim sat and stared at the candy machine. Jimbo, he lectured himself. What the hell are you doing? You've known this girl for three days. She's engaged to be married. You've got a girlfriend, remember? So what if she's a bit...artificial compared with…but she cares for you. This girl doesn't. Those jellybeans were just a fluke. She forgot that you said you liked them. Now you go in there and make peace. Don't judge her. Just be her friend. That's all you're ever going to be, so suck it, Halpert.

Jim got up and bought a Hershey bar from the candy machine. He brought it in and put it on Pam's desk.

She eyed it suspiciously. "What is this…a peace offering, Halpert?"

"That's right, Beesly. I need a friend in this place. What do you say?"

"Okay. I could use one too."

"I'd love to see one of your paintings one day."

"Really? I'll bring one in."

Jim put out his hand and Pam took it. Her hand was cool and her nails short and unpolished. He shook her hand and they smiled at each other, and then Jim went back to his desk, where he spent most of the rest of the day remembering exactly how her hand had felt in his.


	4. Thursday

Thursday

Who said breaking up was hard to do, thought Jim, bitterly, as he negotiated the slippery, barely plowed roads on his way to work, Thursday morning. The key was to let _her_ break up with you. Then she felt righteous, and you felt…relieved, he supposed was the right word. Of course it didn't always work like that. He had been on the receiving end of breakups, which had caused him real pain. But yesterday he had come to realize that he just didn't want to be with Donna any more and so he had ceased fighting, ceased trying to make her understand his point of view. He had put his foot down and said that he was moving to his new place, by himself. Donna, being the smart girl she was, had taken the hint and pulled the plug. She had sent him home early, before the snowstorm took hold, and later must have packed up all of the things that he had left at her apartment over the last several months, because he found them in a cardboard box on his car this morning. She must have come out right after the snowplow, he thought, so eager was she to remove all traces of him from her life.

Thank goodness the snow ended early enough for the plows to get through so they could get into work this morning. Wait a minute, he thought to himself, as he pulled into the Dunder Mifflin parking lot, where did _that _come from? For the last two winters he had prayed for snow days like a little kid. They hardly ever happened, but when they did, it was like a precious gift. But after a miserable, sleepless night, he had actually smiled to himself when he heard the snowplows rumbling down the street in the pre-dawn. He couldn't imagine why he would actually want to be coming to work this morning.

Well, there was one reason. Roy's pick up truck pulled into the parking lot right next to his Corolla, and Roy and Pam got out. Pam looked like an Eskimo in her blue parka and boots, and Roy, in a light jacket, indifferent to the cold, helped her through the slippery parking lot and into the building, as though she were as fragile as cut glass. So, he's not a total lunkhead, Jim thought, grudgingly, and got out to battle his own way into the building.

People drifted in late, all morning. Creed never bothered to come in at all, and Sidney had also stayed home, as he was close enough to retirement to not care what anybody thought, and why break a hip just to come here? There was kind of a festive air in the building, as though all of the rules had been suspended. Michael even ordered pizza for lunch, in his constant campaign to be considered the best boss ever.

The Albany branch was closed for the day, but Michael boasted to Jan that Scranton was here and fully operational, despite "rain and sleet and snow and gloom of night," Pam reported to Jim. The phones weren't ringing, and the few places Jim called were either closed or not in a paper buying mood. Dwight immersed himself in his computer game, and Jim helped Pam move her monitor around, so that she could play solitaire without anybody seeing what was on her screen, unless they leaned way over her desk, which Jim did a few times just to see how her game was progressing. And to eat a few jelly beans, of course.

Before lunchtime Pam called Jim over to her desk. She brought out a large watercolor sketchbook from under her chair. Jim hadn't seen her carrying it this morning, so she must have had it under her parka to keep it from getting wet. He opened it up, worried that he was going to have to lie and say something polite about her work. But thank goodness, he didn't have to lie. She was good. Not that he was an expert on watercolors or anything, but he really liked what she had done. She had several watercolor sketches and a lot of drawings, of gardens and flowers and some people. He recognized a sketch of Roy, and some drawings of two different elderly gentlemen, which he assumed were her former bosses. There were some houses, unlike the ones he saw in Scranton. Houses with gardens and terraces. Her paintings were kind of impressionistic, but her drawings were detailed. He was impressed.

"Wow, Pam. These are really good. I like the way you use color. And your sketches are right on. Well, at least the one of Roy. I can't vouch for the others."

"Thank you. As for the color…well, I really love Impressionism…you know, artists like Renoir and…"

"I know about Impressionism, Pam," Jim interrupted, " Just because I don't recognize pre-Columbian pottery when I pass it in a shop window, doesn't make me a complete philistine."

"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed, " I never thought you were a philistine. Would you like me to do you?"

"What?"

Pam blushed, "Oh God. I meant a sketch."

Jim laughed, "Really? That would be great. But won't you get into trouble with Roy...having portraits of strange men in your sketchbook?"

"Yeah, like Roy would ever look in my sketchbook. I mean, he knows I like to draw, and that I draw all sorts of people. I'll do it later, when you're back at your desk."

He looked through her sketches again, marveling at the way she captured people in just a few lines. "Man, I can't draw at all. My stick people...they don't even look like sticks!"

"Wow, that is bad. But you must have other talent."

"Like what? Music? My mom made me take piano lessons when I was a kid, but I never practiced, and she soon got tired of wasting her money. Then, on my own I took guitar lessons. That lasted longer, but eventually I got tired of wasting my own money. Anyway, the net result is that I can play 'Three Blind Mice' on the piano…with one hand, and the opening chords to 'Stairway to Heaven,' on the guitar. Just the opening chords though, so I tend to give very short concerts."

Pam laughed, "Oh come on...I know you must have some talent, somewhere."

"Well, I can play basketball pretty well. And I was in a couple of plays in High school. They said I was really good. But then again _they_ were my parents, so who knows."

"You seem to be a pretty good salesman. That takes talent. I know I couldn't do it. I'm too shy."

"Well, I've never had a problem talking to people."

"I know. You made me feel at home right away here. That's a real gift."

"Thank you. Do you mind mentioning all of this to Michael during my next performance review?"

Pam smiled, but then she leaned over and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Hey…what's happening with the nickel project? I haven't seen you put any nickels in all day."

"Oh...I'm all done. The phone is as full as it's going to get. What we have to do now is wait."

"For what?"

"For Dwight to get really used to the phone at its current weight. It doesn't help that nobody's calling today. But if things are back to normal tomorrow, I figure that we'll do it tomorrow afternoon, how about 3:00 PM?"

"Okay. But I've been thinking. Won't you need extra time to get the nickels out? What if he comes back from the bathroom too soon?"

"Good point, Beesly. Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"Positive. But I figure that what you need is a diversion. Maybe I could kind of be in the breakroom, and ask him a question when he comes out of the bathroom."

"Wow. Are you sure you want this level of participation?"

"Well, it's not exactly murder that we're plotting here. I think my conscience can stand it. But the question is...what should I ask him about? Beets?"

"Not unless you want to die of boredom right where you stand. Have you read Harry Potter?"

"Goblet of Fire? Sure."

"Good. If you ask him about that...he'll talk to you for hours. Either that or any of the Star Wars movies. Or nature. Dwight's a big fan of nature. He especially likes to shoot it."

Pam made a face. "I think I'll stick to Harry Potter."

"Good choice. Oh look...lunch has been delivered. Aren't we having a productive day."

Michael's pizza lunch turned into a "Welcome Pam" pizza party in the conference room, that soon spread out all over the office, with everybody milling around and talking. Jim could see that Pam was a bit shy in crowds, but that she was soon talking easily to Phyllis, who was a very sweet lady, and Meredith. The elusive Catherine and Tom actually graced the party with their presence. But Tom was mostly sitting by himself, while Catherine was talking to Toby, who was looking politely uncomfortable. Oh dear, thought Jim, looks like trouble in paradise. This didn't surprise him, as Catherine had pretty much flirted with every male in the office, at one time or another. In fact, she had made a rather serious pass at Jim, at last year's Christmas party, which he had deflected, and he suspected she had tried the same thing with Dwight, since he was clearly terrified of her, and avoided her like the plague. As Dwight put it, he would rather be the hunter, than the hunted. Michael was telling jokes in the corner, surrounded by Dwight, of course, Kevin, Stanley, and Devon. It was ironic that the parties that Michael planned so carefully were usually disasters, while this, which happened more or less spontaneously, seemed to be a success. At least nobody was crying, which seemed to be a hallmark of most of Michael's planned parties.

Somehow, Jim found himself back at his own desk, watching the party rather than participating. His head had begun to ache, which sometimes happened when he didn't get enough sleep. He also didn't feel much like eating, and put his pizza down after a couple of bites. A wave of depression hit him, a delayed reaction to last night's breakup. He guessed that he wasn't quite as indifferent as he had thought. Ten months was a long time to be with somebody and have it end suddenly like that. And until a few days ago, they had gotten along just fine. Donna had even met his parents, which wasn't too surprising since he still lived at home. He hadn't met her mother though, since she lived in Pittsburgh.

Jim knew that Lord and Taylor was probably open...only a major blizzard closed the mall. He wondered if it was deserted or crowded with people dying to get out of the house. On impulse he dialed Donna's cel number. Not unexpectedly, he got her voice mail, since she had to keep her phone turned off at work. "Hey, Donna, it's me, "he said, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with the storm and all. I'm really sorry about everything. Take care." He hung up and then shook his head at his own lameness. Take care? Not much of an epitaph for ten months.

"What are you doing? Are you okay?" It was Pam; "The pizza's almost gone, if you want to claim any more."

"Nah, I've had plenty, thanks. I have a headache, actually."

"Oh…is there something I can get you? "

"Well, Meredith has an entire drugstore in her desk. I'll get some Advil from her. Don't worry about it."

"I'll get it for you. You want two?"

"Wow. Thank you. That's very nice."

He watched her go over to Meredith and speak to her, and from there, over to Meredith's desk and look in the bottom drawer. Triumphant she held up the bottle of Advil and smiled at him. What was it he had been holding out for? One look...across a crowded room? Wonderful. Terrific. Perfect. What the love songs failed to mention, however, was what you were supposed to _do_, when you _saw_ that girl, the one you wanted, and she belonged to somebody else. How come the love songs didn't tell you that?

When Pam got back from the breakroom with the Advil and a cup of water, Jim was no longer at his desk. She left the pills and water there for him, and sat down behind her own desk and took out her sketch pad, and began drawing some of the people who were milling around.

A few minutes later Jim came in through the front door, his face red with the cold, "Man, "he said, "it's cold out there."

"What were you doing outside?"

"Cold air helps my head. Couldn't take too much of it though. Oh, thanks." He took the Advil with the water and sat down. People were drifting back to their desks. He checked his e-mail. Nothing. He brought up his solitaire game and began to play aimlessly. Dwight came back and sat down, after inspecting his desk for mischief.

Suddenly Dwight's phone rang. He picked it up, "Dwight Schrute."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dwight, " Jim turned around and saw Pam on her telephone, "I was trying to forward a call to Michael and I must have hit your extension by mistake."

"Oh. No problem, Pamela. But you might want to have a look at your manual again."

"I was just going to do that. Thanks Dwight."

She hung up and looked at Jim with a big grin. He grinned back. After all, what else could he do?


	5. Friday

Friday

By Friday morning, Jim had gained a whole new perspective on the Pam situation. Oh sure, it had seemed all dramatic and romantic, yesterday afternoon, like that moment in West Side Story when Tony and Maria first saw each other across the dance floor. But in reality, she was just a girl waving a bottle of Advil, for heaven's sake. So, let's face facts here, Jim thought, as he got into his frozen car, and turned on the heater and defroster full blast. I have a crush on a co-worker. Big deal. No need to stop the presses. He had been there before. Miss Alvarez, his Middle School Spanish teacher. For two years he had mooned over her, getting perfect grades in Spanish, but to no avail. That summer before High School, she had married the gym teacher, Mr. Henderson, who, ironically, was also the High School basketball coach. So for the next four years, he got to see Mrs. Henderson at all of his games, looking lovely as ever, but the magic was gone.

So, he knew what would happen here. He'd moon over Pam for a few months, then she would marry Roy, and that would be the end of it...she would become merely Mrs. Anderson waving from the bleachers. End of story. Hey...her name would be Pamela Anderson…that was pretty funny. See...he could even laugh about it.

And they really seemed to be becoming friends, which was a good thing. He really didn't have much in common with the other sales reps, Stanley and Phyllis, though he liked them. And he and Dwight weren't even from the same planet. He would have liked to get to know Toby better, but Toby seemed to have a lot of problems of his own right now, and always seemed distracted. The accounting crew had their own little clique, though he sometimes hung out with Kevin, even if Kevin's mind ran on one, rather disturbing, track. And as for the mysterious Creed and Devon, in "Quality Control," way in the back of the room...nobody even knew what it was they did all day. So, he was really glad to have a friend in the office.

Plus office romances were a terrible idea, anyway. Look at Tom and Catherine...that had train wreck written all over it. What would happen to Tom, when Catherine moved on to her next conquest, and he still had to work there every day? No thanks.

But the best news of all was that he was free, for the first time in ages. No girlfriend to worry about, no need to think about anybody but himself right now. He had spoken to Donna briefly last night, and they had both decided that things were better this way, and that they both were coping just fine. He had spent the rest of the evening packing up his bedroom, the room in which he had grown up. It had been a good distraction, and he had enjoyed sorting through the memorabilia of his 24 years on earth. He had especially gotten a kick out of cleaning out his various secret stashes of things no good Catholic boy was supposed to have, and which every good Catholic boy he knew, had in abundance. Like the Playboy magazines under the mattress. Miss February 1997...how could he have forgotten _her_? And the pack of cigarettes from when he was fifteen and thought he would take up smoking. Luckily, his sister's boyfriend, Ted, who planned to go to medical school, had scared the hell out of him, with grisly stories and photos, and nipped that habit in the bud. He unearthed a couple of ancient condoms, so well hidden, he had totally forgotten about them. No drugs...even if he had been a user, he never would have brought anything like that into his parent's home. But at least now he didn't have to worry about his mom cleaning out his room after he was gone, and going into retroactive shock, though he was sorry to throw out Miss February, now that he had rediscovered her.

Jim was so lost in thought that he arrived at work pretty much on autopilot. But here he was. Okay...no problem. Friends is the name of the game.

Until he walked into the office and saw Pam sitting there, her eyes red and swollen and looking even gloomier than she had the day she arrived. She smiled at him, and said hi, but it was a sad smile and a sad "hi."

"Hey, what's up? Is everything okay? Did Michael say something? He can be a real ass sometimes."

"No, no. It's nothing like that. Michael's not even in yet. It's really nothing, " she added flatly.

"You sure? I could meet you in the breakroom at 10:00 if you need to talk…"

"No. It's personal, " she snapped.

"Okay." Rebuffed, Jim went and sat down at his desk. He already had a couple of messages. Apparently, everybody was going to want to make up for slacking off yesterday. Good. Work was good. He started returning his phone calls.

By ten o'clock he had already made a couple of sales, and needed a break. He got up and went into the breakroom for a cup of coffee. A couple of minutes later, Pam came in. She made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the little table. Jim, who had been about to bring his coffee back to his desk, sat down also.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey. Sorry I was so rude, before."

"No problem. I was being nosy. As you can see," he pointed to his rather large nose, " I pretty much can't help it."

Pam just sighed, "I had a fight with Roy on my way into work this morning. I just don't understand him sometimes. He knows that we are trying to save money, for the wedding and to get into an apartment. All the ones we've looked at require first and last month's rent plus a security deposit. That's a lot of money right up front. So what does he tell me this morning? That he wants to buy one of those new DVD Players. I haven't even gotten my first paycheck yet, and he wants to spend it on _that_. It's not like we don't already have a perfectly good VCR."

"Wow. My brother in law has one of those, but then again, he's a doctor. Can't you just say no?"

"I do...I did…but then I end up being the bad guy, the wet blanket who doesn't want to do anything fun, and I hate being that person."

"Well, Pam, I'm afraid I'm not much of an expert on relationships...as you might have noticed, I'm single."

"Oh that's okay. I wasn't really expecting advice. I just needed to vent."

"Well, vent away."

"Thanks, I feel better already. I'm sure we'll work it out…we always do. So, today's the big day, huh?"

"What day is that?"

"Dwight's phone," she whispered.

"Oh…that!" he had actually forgotten all about that for the moment, "Yeah. By the way, great idea, calling him like that yesterday."

"Well, his phone hadn't been ringing, and you said he needed to get used to it."

"Well, it's ringing today. Which reminds me...I'd better get back. See you at lunch?"

"Sure. Same time, same place."

By lunchtime, Pam was back to her usual cheerful self. In fact she seemed a little giddy, and almost flirtatious. Of course, thought Jim, here I am determined to keep this whole thing on a strictly platonic level and she goes and gets all flirty. It really wasn't quite fair. It was pretty hard to resist, however.

At one point, while they were eating, Dwight swooped in and glared at them dramatically, and then swooped out again. They both started to laugh. "What was that all about?" Jim started to say, while Pam attempted, "What is his problem?" at the same time, but all they managed to do was say, "What…" in unison.

"Jinx, " sang out Pam.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Don't you know Jinx?"

Jim shrugged, "No…not that I know of."

Pam looked flabbergasted; "Didn't you grow up in Pennsylvania? Didn't you go to Girl Scout camp?"

"Aha...now there's the problem. I did grow up in Pennsylvania, but I did not, oddly enough, go to Girl Scout camp."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. If there had been any Girl Scouts at my camp, I definitely would have noticed them."

"So you never learned to play Jinx."

"Nope. At my camp, all we did was put nasty things in each other's bunks and try to induce bed wetting by sticking guys' hands in warm water as they slept. But I don't remember anything called Jinx. What is it?"

"Well, if two people happen to say the same thing at the same time, like we both just now said 'what,' the first person to call out 'Jinx,' wins."

"Okay. What do they win?"

"Well, according to the rules of South Williamsport Girl Scout Troop 107, the loser cannot speak until she or he buys the winner a coke."

"Ah." Jim considered, "You know Beesly…I've known you for five whole days, and it's just now hit me…you're a total dork."

Pam sniffed, and made a very sad face, "So…does that mean you're not going to play?"

"Oh, I'm going to _play_. I'm definitely going to play. My own dork creds go way back."

"Then shhh."

"What?"

"Shhh…no talking."

Jim made a pantomime of zipping his lips and silently got up and bought a coke from the coke machine and gave it to Pam. He looked at her questioningly.

"It's okay...you can talk now."

"Are you sure…I don't want to be attacked by hordes of angry Girl Scouts."

"Positive."

"You know…that is probably the _lamest_ game ever."

"Oh, I know. That's why I like it."

"Okay. Fair enough. But you also know that the only reason that you actually won this time was because I didn't know we were playing. But from now on, watch out…you'd better start saving your allowance, is all I'm gonna say."

"You are on, Halpert! Uh oh...it's after one. We'd better get back."

Jim went smiling back to his desk. What a crazy girl…what a delightful, crazy girl. Did Roy have any inking at all as to what he had?

It was a busy afternoon, and Dwight's phone rang often enough that Jim was confident that his plan would work. At around 3:00, Pam got up and with such an effort to be casual that it made Jim laugh, walked into the breakroom. She didn't have long to wait. At 3:05, Dwight got up to go to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, Jim quickly emptied all of the nickels out of the headset and into the zip lock bag he had brought, which he quickly hid in his bottom desk drawer. He was glad that Pam had elected to play decoy, since it took a bit longer to get the nickels out, than it had taken to put them in one by one. But soon all was back to normal, and Jim was innocently processing an order. But where were Dwight and Pam?

Eventually, Pam came back, followed by Dwight. Pam made a face at Jim. Dwight leaned over and told Jim, "Pamela _claims_ to have read the Goblet of Fire, but she couldn't even answer a few simple questions."

"Are they going to be on the Final?" Jim asked.

Dwight sneered, and went back to his computer. Jim turned and looked at Pam. All they could do now was wait for Dwight's phone to ring. The shrill sound of the phone made Jim jump, but it turned out to be his own phone. Jim got off the line as soon as he could, afraid to be caught in the middle of something when "it" happened. He looked at Pam and she looked at him, wide eyed.

Finally…Dwight's phone rang. As he picked up the suddenly much lighter receiver, it came up with such force that it whacked him right in the cheekbone. His reaction was instantaneous. He slammed the receiver down, no doubt to the consternation of whoever was on the other end, and leapt out of his seat howling in pain and outrage. Everybody, all over the office, turned around to see what was going on, and Michael came running out of his office.

"Dwight…what the _hell _are you doing?" he yelled.

Dwight turned and pointed to Jim. "You did this!" he said in a loud hiss, "I don't know how you did it, but you did it!"

"Did what?" Jim asked innocently.

"What happened, Dwight?" yelled Michael, " For God's sake…you sound like you've been murdered!"

"I hit myself in the face with my phone!"

Jim shot a look at Pam who was doubled over with laughter. It was all he could do to keep a straight face, himself.

"Well, don't DO that! God...what an idiot!" Michael stalked back into his office.

Everybody in the office was used to Dwight's histrionics, especially in the last year, so since he didn't seem in danger of imminent death, they went back to what they were doing. Dwight, however, was not finished by any means. He stalked over to Pam's desk, where she sat wiping her eyes and trying to look sympathetic. Poor guy…he did actually have a mark on his cheek.

"You." Dwight announced, pointing at Pam, accusingly.

"Me?" squeaked Pam, looking at Jim for help.

"Finally…I have a _witness_, who isn't one of those nitwit temps! You were sitting here all day. You must have seen him. What did he do to my phone?"

"N-nothing. I was here all day and I didn't see him touch your phone once."

Dwight stared at her, intently; "Hmmm…I can see that you are telling the truth. What about yesterday?"

"Wasn't your phone okay yesterday?" Pam asked

"Yes. Okay…strike that question. Hmmm…He must have been sneakier than I thought. He has fooled us _both!_ I _will _get to the bottom of this!"

Dwight's phone rang again, startling Pam and Jim as well as Dwight. Dwight turned on his heel, and crouching down low, approached his desk as though confronting a nest of rattlesnakes. Steeling himself, he reached boldly out and snatched up the receiver, and when it failed to attack him this time, he sat down and began speaking to his customer, as though nothing had happened.

Jim looked at Pam and gave her an ok sign, for her good work. He was extremely impressed at how she had kept her cool under questioning and had even managed not to lie. A few minutes later, he decided to reward himself for a job well done…with a few jellybeans. "So...was I right?" he asked.

"You were right. It was a work of art. More Salvador Dali than Renoir, however."

"Oh, I don't know. I thought I detected a hint of Picasso, as well. So may I proceed?"

"Only if you let me help."

"I can always use a good accomplice. And you were excellent under pressure, I might add. What were you and Dwight talking about in the breakroom all that time?"

"World cup Quidditch."

"Figures. Later, Beesly." He went back to his seat.

At 5:00, Roy came upstairs to collect Pam, apparently trying to make up for this morning. "Hey babe," he said, "What's happenin'? How was work today?"

"Pam shrugged, "You know…same old grind. Actually, my first week wasn't too bad."

"See…I told you this job would be okay." He escorted Pam out the door. Interesting, thought Jim, that she hadn't mentioned Dwight's telephonic adventure. Maybe she'll tell him about it later.

Jim put on his coat and went out into the cold night. It had been quite a week. For some reason he was reminded of a line from an old movie, one in which the hero did not, for once, get the girl at the end. Instead he got something much better, in a way. "Pam Beesly, " he said out loud in his best Humphrey Bogart voice, "this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."


End file.
